"I told you, we shouldn't've gone up onto the roof of the hotel," Luo Fusheng is complaining for the thirteenth time that hour. "Can you even see into the window from here? Hey, Officer Han, let's change the place, we'll see way better from the roof of the mall."
Han Chen's jaw tightens as he stares through the binoculars. The suspect's room is currently empty, but the light is on, and the curtains are half open. "…Stop talking," he grits out.
"Oh, so you’ve noticed I’m talking? What, you're not bored already?" Luo Fusheng drops an arm over his shoulder. "Come on, give me some face, talk to me for real." He smirks. "How much do you wanna bet we'll have a full conversation before the night is over because we can't see shit from here?"
His face is too close, his breath is too warm on the side of Han Chen's face, and a man's patience only stretches so thin.
(Although, Han Chen's logic in kissing him, admittedly, is patchy. …He'll examine that later.)
Luo Fusheng makes a muffled sound of surprise against his mouth, then grabs the front of his jacket and gives back as good as he's getting.